


Motions of the Flesh

by stefanie_bean



Category: Gargoyles
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, Fluff, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefanie_bean/pseuds/stefanie_bean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Broadway wants to make up for offering Angela a half-eaten box of chocolates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Motions of the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> _Twill make Old Women Young and Fresh;_  
>  _Create New Motions of the Flesh,_  
>  _And cause them long for You Know What,_  
>  _If they but taste of Chocolate._  
>  \- Ascribed to James Wadworth (1768-1844)

The stocky, greyish-blue gargoyle sat perched on the fire escape for a very long time, long after the sun had disappeared over the Manhattan skyline. Three stories below, the little chocolate shop refused to empty out, even though he could tell by the chiming of the church clock on the corner that it was an hour past closing time. But then again, it was the holiday the humans called "Valentine's Day," and the little white-haired human man who ran the store kept letting the customers in, one after another.

The last customer, a tall nervous man in a dark suit, bought a large and elaborate box, wrapped in a red bow. Broadway had learned enough about human facial expressions to know guilt when he saw it. Guilt had never troubled Broadway much, not at least until that one night when he had met Angela for the first time, when he had handed her a half-eaten box of chocolates. She had smiled sweetly and accepted his gift, but deep down he felt that unfamiliar feeling which drove him out tonight to this little candy shop on a side street in lower Manhattan. Broadway wanted to fix things, to make it better. But he'd have to wait for the last customer to take his guilty burden out the door, down the street, away.

Broadway had watched the shop for about a week. He knew that after the shop closed, the owner would go into the back, to write all sorts of incomprehensible things down in a black book whose funny paper had red lines all over it. Numbers, Lexington had called them. Accounts. Even though there were roving bandits in the streets nearby, they didn't come down this street after dark - not since Broadway had been sitting on his iron perch, at least. And the door would be open, still unlocked.

That would give him a few minutes to slip in, take a box of the fragrant wrapped morsels, and then leave. Broadway hated to steal from the humans, so he carried clutched in his hand a small silver chain made of little rings. He had found them in the clan's new rookery, and looped them together. Certainly they would be more than enough for one of those pretty boxes.

He slipped in, took a cream and gold box with very tempting pictures on the outside, left the chain of soda can tabs, and left with barely a rustle of wings. Clutching the package to his broad chest, he told himself over and over that he would not have any of it, not a single one. He wouldn't even smell it. It was all for her.

At first, when he got back to the rookery, he didn't see her, and feared she was out, soaring somewhere above the city, perhaps gone until dawn. But there she was, perched on a stone parapet beside the clock tower, and she jumped up with a rustling flap as he landed.

"Broadway!" Angela said. "You startled me."

"Uh, I didn't mean to," he apologized. He passed the box from hand to hand, not sure what to do next.

She smiled, that bright wide smile which made his wings collapse as if they were made of melted wax. "What do you have there?" she said.

"Umm, I, uh," and then he thrust the box of chocolate towards her, suddenly terrified that she would laugh at him, or snatch it and leave him standing helpless and alone under the clock face's golden light.

Angela took the box gently. "Why, thank you. What's in this?" With a swift slice of her claw she tore through the wrapping. "Ummm, it smells wonderful. I remember this smell," she said, and she gave him a long appreciative look.

"I didn't have any this time. This is all for you."

She speared a vanilla cream on the end of one claw, and chewed. "It's better than the last."

"You think so?" 

"I know so," and then, before he knew it, she pressed up against his chest, her one free arm snaking around his back, her free wing folded lightly up against his wide shoulder. She nuzzled his neck and kissed his chins, both of them, then worked her way around to his cheeks. 

"It's for a special human day," he started to say, but couldn't anymore, as Angela's mouth rose up to meet his, and he tasted chocolate, smooth vanilla, and her own indescribable taste. There were a few specks on her cheek and chin, and he made sure to clean those off.

"Umm," she said deep in her throat. "So much of you, and so sweet."

Broadway looked up at the night sky, not daring to speak, afraid that if he did, her mouth would stop roving over his neck and breast. Then she laughed a little, but it was a kind laugh, and when she withdrew her wing from around him, the cold night air made him shiver a little.

"Here," Angela said, offering him the box. "Have a chocolate."

( _the end_ )


End file.
